Secrets Worth Keeping
by xXCarlaLouiseXx
Summary: It's going to be pretty difficult for Craig to keep a life changing secret from Kenny when they're living under the same roof. Crenny with a twist.
1. A secret friendship

**A/N: Yay! I get to work on Crenny again! I've missed this pairing sooooo much lol.**

**I know I'm doing Crenneek, but Crenny makes me sooo happy!**

**This was originally going to be called 'Social Caterpillar' because I was gonna have Kenny help Craig to become a social butterfly (see? clever title huh?). But I got such an epicfull idea!**

**And so it was renamed.**

**Btw, if anyone can guess Craig's secret then they get... absolutely nothing! Lol, well what did you expect? A puppy or something? I'm not made of money! Lol, sorry I'm hyper.**

**But if you can work it out before reading the second chapter then you're a clever bean.**

**... and no, he's not the same as Kenny.**

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** I let out a loud sigh as my light blue eyes fell upon the harsh words on my computer screen. Words that almost seemed to laugh at me from their comfortable spot on the Facebook homepage. "I have a heart... only joking, I'm Craig Tucker," I read out loud, before flipping the screen off out of habit and rolling my eyes at how fucking pathetic the people in this town are.

Here we go again.

It was not the first -or the most original- Craig Tucker hate group I had ever seen. In fact, the title of most original group would have to go to an ingenious and not at all retarded -I'm being sarcastic, of course- group. It was created some time during the fith grade by none other than town genius -again, sarcasm- Clyde Donovan, who -at one point- used to be my friend. The group in question was cleverly named "Craig Tucker wouldn't know kindness if it kicked his hampster," which I wasn't too upset about because a) Stripes was a guinea pig and b) kicking someone's 'hampster' wouldn't be a particularly kind thing for 'kindness' to do.

I don't get it though. I'm not a bad person and I've never intentionally hurt anyone... ok, so I've never intentionally hurt anyone except for when I was defending myself or those who couldn't stand up for themselves like Tweek and Butters. So I'm not a 'bully' or anything. I'm not that bad and I am capable of caring about things, even if I don't show it much.

So why do they do this?

My thoughts were interupted when I heard the soft, but familiar thud of feet on my window frame. He was trying to be discreet again in the hopes that he might surprise me, but it was a Friday night, he was bound to show up at some point. I can feel his vibrant, blue eyes drilling into the back of my head, calculating the right moment to make his presence known. "I know you're there retard," I sighed boredly, spinning in my computer chair to smirk at a disapointed looking Kenny. "You may have been some dark, mysterious super hero when we were kids. But dude, you've lost your touch."

"Asshole," Kenny muttered, before dropping into the room and taking a seat on my bed, making himself at home. "You try jumping from the tree to the window when it's pitch black outside."

"Why don't you just use the front door like a normal person?" I questioned.

"Because it's not the same," Kenny shrugged.

I raised an eyebrow at the blond, deciding to give up and get to the point because there was no way I would win this, he's way too stuborn. "So, let's hear it," I instructed. "What have they done this week?"

If anyone from this town was to look in on this situation they would probably be tilting their heads in confusion right now, but this has been going on for years. Ever since we were kids Kenny would visit me at the end of the week and vent about all of the shit he'd been through. I would sit there and listen to him as he just let every thought and feeling spill from his mouth. It started in counselling, Kenny used to go as well as me because of his home situation or whatever. Anyway, a programme was introduced where we had to pair up with someone who we didn't know very well and discuss each other's problems so that we could get fair, unbiased advice. In my opinion we only had to do it because the counsellor was lazy, that or he became fed up with talking to us 'difficult' kids.

It seemed to work well enough for Kenny though, after a while he left the counselling group, but he never stopped our weekly meeting. I never actually told him any of my problems though, I know they're only trivial compared to his and I also kind of have trust issues.

Can you blame me though? I mean the last time I tried to trust someone -Kenny included- I ended up in Peru!

Besides, I have a secret. Something I haven't told anyone, ever, and probably never will. If this secret got out - I don't even want to think about it, it majorly stresses me out. Kenny would understand, he would understand all too well, but there are also many reasons against me telling him. I just can't tell anyone, end of.

Getting back to the point, since then me and Kenny have been best friends, maybe even 'super best friends' as I overheard Stan and Kyle say one time - God those guys are gay. However, we're kind of secret best friends in the sense that we act like we hate each other around everyone else. We have tried to act like friends in public one or two times before. It confuses people, and when people in this town get confused they won't just shut the fuck up and accept it. They have to consistently ask questions until it gets to the point where you feel like ripping your hair out. Ask my other friend, Tweek. He knows from experience what this town can do to you if you're not carefull.

Kenny fidgeted, finally ending the remenisent monologue enducing silence. "By 'they' do you mean my parents or Kyle, Stan and Cartman?" he asked, purposely avoiding eye contact. He was hiding something, or at least he was attempting to hide something.

I eyed him suspiciously from across the room. "Both," I answered slowly and calmly.

"Well, uh... Kyle, Stan and Cartman almost got me arrested for breaking and entering on Tuesday," he chuckled, running a hand through his messy blond hair. "We broke into Stephanie Meyer's house to destroy the first draft of her new book about a glow-in-the-dark centaur who falls in love with a clumbsy, dependant human, but she also has a land based mermaid on the go," Kenny clarified, before adding "We were forced to read it as punishment and I died of boredom," on the end.

"Uh huh," I nodded, expecting something along those lines. "What about your parents?"

"Uh... nothing," Kenny answered, squirming slightly under my harsh, doubtfull glare. "M-my parents did nothing this week."

"That's funny," I responded. "Because usually you have a completely annoying, hour long rant prepared about your parents and how they're not even fit to take care of a rock let alone human beings."

"You remember that?" Kenny asked with a nervous grin.

I wasn't smiling, nothing about this was funny. "Kenny, stop it," I scolded. "Just tell me what happened... please." I had to grit my teeth for that last word, and Kenny was visibly surprised that I'd used it. So eventually -after a longass staring contest- he let out a defeated sigh and nodded. Then he slowly raised his shirt, a shamefilled blush colouring his cheeks when my eyes widdened in shock, which was probably my first emotion of the week. Huge, jagged, crimson coloured scars littered his skinny, pale stomach, some even continuing towards his collar bone. "Shit," I whispered.

"They never went this far before," he mumbled sheepishly.

Anger coursed through me at the sight of what those monsters had done to my best friend. Kenny was a good guy, he never hurt anyone and he's tried so hard to stay away from the things that led to his parents downfall. He didn't deserve this crap."That's it!" I snapped. "This isn't happening any more!" I jumped up out of my seat and crossed the room, grabbing Kenny's arm and practically hauling him out of the room and down the stairs behind me.

My mom glanced up at us with a surprised smile when we entered the kitchen "Hi Kenny, it's good to see you," she stated. "I thought you wouldn't be making any more appearences down here since you started climbing that tree."

Kenny blushed and shifted beside me "Uh, it's nice to see you again too Mrs Tucker."

"Ms Tucker, Kenny," my mom corrected, a spark of annoyance evident in her eyes. She hated it when people called her Mrs, having divorced my dad for cheating on her with Cartman's mom about two years back. Oddly she kept the last name though, only changing her title. I guess her maiden name must have been really embarassing or something.

"Right," Kenny mumbled, his blush only growing. "Sorry Ms Tucker."

"Mom," I cut in. "Kenny's staying with us for a while because his parents are... sick. Is that ok?"

"Sure, of course he can," my mom answered, although she was looking slightly taken aback. "You should have mentioned this earlier though Craig, I have to go to work now," she replied. "Are you two ok with sorting out your sleeping arrangements?"

"Yeah mom," I replied, rolling my eyes. "We'll be fine, just go."

"Ok," she nodded, before placing a kiss on my cheek.

"Mom, I'm seventeen years old," I stated. "Don't do that."

"What?" my mother replied. "Can't I give my own son a kiss goodbye?"

"Whatever," I answered.

"If you get hungry you know where the food is," she stated, clipping her name tag onto her cleaning uniform and slipping out of the back door. After dad left my mom had to take another job -which happened to be cleaning the church and community centre- to keep a roof over our heads. It wasn't too bad, Ruby went with dad so the food and clothing bills were a little smaller. However, without my dad's money coming in as well, we did find it slightly more difficult to make ends meet.

After a few seconds the door opened again and she added "No house parties while I'm out."

"Don't have enough friends for that," I answered.

"Alright," my mom nodded. "I'm leaving now then, goodbye. Try not to stay up too late."

"Bye mom," I answered, an almost un noticable hint of exasperation in my voice.

Once she had finally left I got a shock as a pair of arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a crushingly tight hug. "Thanks dude," Kenny whispered. "You didn't have to do that," he pointed out. I decided to let him have his faggy little bro moment and hugged back, soon finding that -oddly enough- the hug wasn't as wierd as I thought it would be, it was actually quite comforting.

"Yes I did," I argued as the hug broke. "You're my best friend, I couldn't let you go through that." As we made our way up stairs I blurted "I do have a heart, despite what facebook says."

As soon as the words had left my mouth I stopped in my tracks. Did I actually just tell Kenny what was on my mind? Well shit, I think I did. Now there's no way of taking it back either. After about seven or eight years of bottling everything up, I had just actually voiced one of my concerns.

Fuck! I was doing so well!

Kenny, who had also stopped, finally spoke up "You saw that huh?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered. I just managed to state what one of my problems were, so I figured I shouldn't stop there. I forced myself to speak the next sentence, pushing the boundaries of my trust issues a little to test the waters. "I don't understand it though. I mean seriously, what have I ever done to them?"

"Don't take this the wrong way Craig," Kenny began tentatively, as we started walking again, being new to playing the role of the listener and advice giver himself. "But you're an introvert, and sometimes that can come across as..." he searched for the right word. "...anti-social."

"But I'm not," I argued. "I mean why can't they at least try and find out what I'm really like before doing stuff like that? It just really fucking annoys me that they would do something like that y'know? Most of them have never even talked to me before, they're just copying other people. Seriously though are their lives that fucking boring that they have to make up pathetic grou-"

"Craig," Kenny interjected before I could get too carried away, this situation was new after all. By now we had finished our journey and were both sat on the edge of my bed. He took a long look at me and sighed. "You care about this more than you've been letting on don't you?" he inquired. I nodded slowly, afraid that I wouldn't be able to stop if I started talking again. "Then why don't you ever say anything?" I didn't answer that time, but Kenny seemed to understand. He placed a hand on my shoulder "I'm gonna fix this," he stated, a determined tone to his voice.

"No," I replied. "You don't have t-"

"Yes I do," Kenny interrupted again. "You helped me," he stated. "So let me help you." I responded by simply rolling my eyes and flipping him off, switching back into emotionless 'tough guy' mode. "I'm being completely serious," he warned. "You're gonna tell me about everything that's been bothering you and I'm going to help you fix it... because that's what friends do."

Why did I get the feeling he wasn't gonna let this go?


	2. Recurring nightmare

**A/N: *Squeals* I'm soooo happy with my idea for this! Although I don't know about when I actually put it into practise, it probably fails then lol.**

**I'm in love -and always have been- with sci-fi. So I absolutely adore writing things like this.**

**Hope you like.**

**I don't own.**

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Ok so don't get me wrong, I was happy -I was soooo happy- that Kenny was away from his abusive parents. However, I was dreading that moment where I couldn't hold on anymore, the moment when sleep finally took over. I was dreading it because I had good reason second my eyelids finally gave up their fight against exhaustion, I found myself trapped in another of my repetetive nightmares...

A gentle breeze caressed my face as I took in my surroundings, it appears he was outside for this one. The same gust of wind whipped his blond hair into my eyes -I mean his eyes- and caused the all too familiar scent of alcohol and smoke to tease my nostrils. Not that he caused this scent, I guess being surrounded by it on a daily basis meant it unfortunately followed him around.

It was all of these factors that instantly led me to a routine conclusion. Yet again I wasn't in my body, I was in Kenny's. This is how most of my dreams are. It's how I never forget. It's a constant reminder.

A constant reminder that I know him better than he thinks I do. A constant reminder that not only do I know him better than anyone else does, but also that I can relate - that me and him, we both know what it's like to be different. We both know what it's like to be cursed.

And he can NEVER know.

Out of eyes that weren't my own I saw Kyle, Stan and Cartman standing on the opposite side of the street. "Hey Kenny!" Kyle called, him and Stan waving their arms frantically in order to grab his attention. "Over here!" I know what's going to happen now, I remember it well.

As I reach this realisation, I see myself through Kenny's eyes, joining the other teens.

I remember the first time I saw myself like this. It's an extremely rude awakening, seeing yourself through the eyes of someone else. I remember wondering if I was really that harsh and negative about everything, and why I had to look at people like I wanted to hurt them. Believe me I've tried changing, but when I'm back in my body it's like second nature to me, I don't even realise I'm doing it.

I know exactly what's going to happen next as Kenny takes his first step off the pavement and into the road. I know that he's about to meet yet another painfull end, but I can't do anything to stop it. It's the same everytime, I can't influence his actions because the events have already taken place, he has already made all of these decisions. He has already decided that he wasn't going to check for cars as he crossed the road to meet us. I can't do anything to change it, I'm just seeing the past from his point of veiw.

I'll say this though, his point of veiw mother fucking hurts!

I see his friends faces contort, their friendly, smiling expressions morphing into panic and shock, only mine remaining relatively emotionless. "KENNY! LOOK OUT!" Stan cried, but it was too late.

I -I mean Kenny- turned just in time to come face to face with the bumper of a truck. The strong, cold metal hit him with imense force, causing agony to ignite throughout his body, waves of pain coursing through him as his throat began to fill with a coppery liquid and-

"Ahhhhhgggg!" I screamed as heat flared up behind my eyelids, abruptly tearing me from my nightmare and back into the conscious world. My eyes were burning furiously, a blinding light threatening to sear straight through my skin if I refused to let my eyelids open. I arched my back off the uncomfortable matress of my bed and clutched at my shirt in concentration.

I didn't want it to win this time. I never wanted it to win, but it was a part of me, a part of me I couldn't just push aside.

"No!" I scolded as the light intesity grew and my right eyelid twitched slightly. Pain shot through my skull at the agonisingly bright, blue light that invaded my vision. Sweat dripped down my face as I continued to battle with my own personal inner demon. I shifted into a sitting position, clutching my legs to my chest and burrying my face in my knees. "Not now," I mumbled to myself between gasps for air. "Please, not now."

Unfortunately it was way too strong, and with one final push my head flew back and my eyelids opened suddenly. All at once the heat and light was released, two strong, fierce beams of blue errupting from my icy orbs. My fingers curled around my blankets as the intensity increased, causing my knuckles to turn white.

As the light slowly died down, my eyes clearing to thier normal, grey-ish blue colour, my breathing calmed a little. "Fuck," I deadpanned when I caught sight of the two small holes that had been burned into the ceiling. "My mom's gonna murder me for that."

I jumped when I heard a knock on my door. "Uh... Craig?" Kenny questioned, his voice slow and riddled with exhaustion. "Are you ok? I thought I heard... screaming."

"I'm f-fine," I answered anxiously, mentally kicking myself for the slightly-out-of-character stammering. "I... um... I get night terrors?" I explained, although it sounded more like an inquiry than a statement.

A silence enveloped us, but I knew he was still there, deciding whether he would believe me or not. "Ok," he replied after a few minutes, causing me to let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "'Night."

"Goodnight," I responded, waiting until his footsteps had dissapeared before I could properly relax. "Night terrors?" I questioned myself in a harsh whisper. "What the hell Craig?"

But then, what was I supposed to say? I know that you can't die? That even though you often make a joke out of it -thinking that no one remembers- I know that you are actually being completely serious? And the only reason I remembered was because of an inexplicable, repetetive nightmare where I share your body and experience all of your deaths?

Not likely.

See, I can't let him know about the dreams. If I told him about this then I'd risk him finding out about MY curse. I'd run the risk of him discovering that ever since the Peru incident...

I've had super powers.

Yeah, light still shoots out of my eyes. Although back then I didn't know the full extent of what it could do, whereas now I understand that it doesn't just work on guinea pigs -although I did bring Stripes back from the dead with it a few years back, and to everyone's cofusion I have been keeping him alive ever since. The light beams also have other uses they can burn and freeze. Also, with this power came the gift of superhuman eyesight, I can see things that others would miss -even if they had a magnifying glass- and, if I really focus, I can also see through walls and stuff.

It would be pretty cool to anyone else, but to me it's just another irritating thing I try to ignore. I just want to be normal like all of the other kids in this town -except maybe Kenny and that goth girl's brother, whatever that weirdo's name was. As I have stated many times before; I would be perfectly happy with just a simple, boring life. Yet it has to be me who has the freakish powers, that one of Stan's gang would kill for - literally in Cartman's case- but no, it HAD to be me.

And in addition to this annoyance came the anxiety, the fear of what was obviously happening. It was getting stronger, too strong, and I wasn't sure how much longer I would be able to ignore it. As I stared up at the still smoking ceiling, I let out a loud sigh.

This was getting too powerfull, almost dangerously so.

As I took in the sight of barely visible ash flecks, I found myself voicing my concerns.

"I can't control it much longer."


End file.
